


Not Asking for Salvation, I'm Asking For Company

by Alazan



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Brainwashing, Conditioning, Eventual Sex, Firefly References, Hydra (Marvel), I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Kidnapping, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Male Slash, Manipulation, Obsessive Behavior, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overprotective, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Grant Ward, Protective Grant Ward, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 19:51:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4405256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alazan/pseuds/Alazan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Gerard kidnaps Stiles, rather than let him go, he sells him to H.Y.D.R.A where they experiment on him. He's tortured and brainwashed and is under strict possession of Daniel Whitehall. </p>
<p>When Whitehall dies, Stiles feels so lost without him. His sole purpose was to serve and protect Whitehall. </p>
<p>Enter Grant Ward. Stiles saved him and nurses him back to health. Grant feels he's indebted to Stiles. As they spend more time together they slowly fall for one another. </p>
<p>It's twisted and morbid, the path they've taken to get where they are. But they no longer hope for an angel to save them, all they want is someone to share in their company and not flinch at the angry scars they've obtained along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story may not be for everyone. Please be sure this is something you'd like to read before you do. I don't go explicit on the torture cos I'm not good at it, but it's still present. As are the after affects and such. 
> 
> Sex will eventually happen and Grant is older than Stiles. 
> 
> From a sane person's point of view their love may seem unreal and twisted and founded on Stockholm Syndrome and they may get really, almost unhealthily dependent of one another, but...that is how this story will be.

For a moment everything was perfect. 

It'd been _his_ time to shine. _He_ was in the spotlight. 

He was the one scoring and bringing their team to victory. 

The coach was yelling in excitement, actually calling him by his name. The girl of his dream was cheering him on and smiling so proudly at him. His dad, god, his dad was finally seeing him as the son he could be proud of instead of the trouble he was burned with. 

Adrenaline had him high on all of those achievements. After the stream of chaos that became their lives, where nothing seemed to go right anymore, in _that_ moment...all was perfect. 

He even scored the winning goal. 

So naturally he didn't get a chance to actual revel in those moments of greatness. 

* * *

 

He's been beaten before, so it wasn't that bad. Lacrosse practice had him dealing with ungraceful tackles. Being in the midst of the supernatural also helped build up his pain tolerance. Still hurt like hell though. 

Stiles couldn't say he was surprised when he realized he was taken by hunters. After seeing how Allison's grandfather was like, after seeing what Kate was like, he didn't hold much affection for hunters. There was a limit with Allison. She was a good enough person, but the way her presence alone could blind Scott when so much bigger shit was going on irritated the hell out of him. It wasn't anything personal to her, Stiles just so happened to be in life or death situations while she and Scott were typically being held back by the need to act normal and participate in things like 'family dinners'. 

When he was shone what had happened to Erica and Boyd, he felt sick. Scared that something would happen to him too that mirrored such fate. He actually prayed that their code kept them from hurting him. He may be allied with wolves, but he was still human, damn it! And the Sheriff's son!  But when he was confronted by Gerard Argent, he knew that he could be related to Orion, the Greek mythological Hunter himself, and it would mean nothing to the man. 

Steading his calmest, coldest glare to the man, Stiles was defiant until the last of it. 

He thought he heard someone say, 'I thought you were going to let him go with your message.'

It might have been just his imagination. Or it could have happened, but Gerard being the dick that he was probably only scoffed and went back to torturing him. 

The tazers probably weren't as strong as whatever Erica and Boyd were enduring, but they still hurt. But they weren't strong enough to knock him out either. He was blindfolded and hands cuffed together, but otherwise left alone. They wanted him to be afraid. It was a fear tactic. They were hurting him but wouldn't let him see where the next strike was going to happen. He couldn't brace for impact or try to shy away other than just randomly scooting wherever his back was.

It went on for hours. Random jolts that had his muscles spazzing, random slashes of a sharp weapon, and random kicks and punches. Nowhere in his body was spared from one form of attack or other.

"What do you think?" he heard Gerard say after...gods know how long. His hearing wasn't all that sharp so voices sounded funny. Fuzzy. Muffled or like when being under water.

"From what I've seen..." a German accented man drawled, "He shows promise. Too soon to tell though."

"I'm telling you, he's a diamond in the ruff. He knows fear, but doesn't let it stop him. Persistent. Stubborn. I've had my men follow him for some time now. He is exactly what H.Y.D.R.A. is looking for." 

"And...he is human?" the German man asked, voice full of curiosity.

"For now. Until H.Y.D.R.A. decides otherwise, I assume. Our usual fee?" Gerard asked. 

"Yes, yes. Do not worry about ze money. Keep bringing us subjects and you will continue to obtain rewards."

Cold blooded dread knotted Stiles's stomach as his mind registered the conversation. Before he could make any protest though, he was tazered once more. This time...a high enough voltage to knock him out. 

* * *

 

For the next couple of weeks, a cage was Stiles's home. He was starved, dehydrated, and manhandled by his 'keepers'. But compared to some of the others, he was fairing better than most. Because no, he wasn't alone. When he was first taken and thrown into a cage with others, his first instinct was to interact. To approach and plot. 

But he underestimated what true villainy was. Up until then, yeah things were bad, but they were always home. The sights and surroundings were familiar things that he could work with. He didn't have the tools his usually had. No one was surely coming for him because _he_ didn't even know where he was. He didn't have Werewolf friends to knock out a guy twice his size who just happened to be armed. Stripped to bare clothing, he shivered in coldness. He ached and shuddered in hunger and thirst. 

The worst part was possibly his mistake of reaching out and making a connection to the others. Telling them not to worry. To not be afraid. 

They were taken. Pulled away from his grasps no matter how hard he held on. He never saw them again. 

Sometimes though...sometimes he sees the remains. 

* * *

 

 

Many times he asked himself 'why', only to wish he hadn't. When he asked himself, he was admittingly asking a higher being at how something so horrible could happen to innocent people. The cruel truth of it was that these treatments were a test. They needed strong test subjects, so after so long of withholding food and water, they'd look to see who was still standing tall, or as tall as possible, and make them the next target. 

 

When it came time for Stiles to be chosen, no one fought against the guards like he had done. No one reached out for his hand. No one fought for him. 

Tears of fear and pain fell from his eyes as he realized he will die, but not soon. And not painlessly.

* * *

 

 

He was beat and put through torture methods he vaguely remembered reading about after he got into reading the books of 'A Song of Ice and Fire'. Once he survived those along with the hunger and thirst problems, they took him to much cleaner stations, though he himself still remained very filthy. They wanted to make their captives as vulnerable as possible and getting rid of one of the senses was right up their alley. A lot of the times he would be blindfolded, gagged, and his ears muffled. It was slowly driving him into insanity with the solitary confinement of his own senses. 

 

He tried to take in as much information as he could when all of his senses were freed, but then it all got fuzzy when they reached a lab and they injected him with something. He was hooked up to machines and injected with more things that made him sweat and heat up, made him sluggish, made him alert, made him hallucinate. He was like a circus monkey on drugs. At some point he was strapped to a gurney and wheeled into a new room. 

He tried to make heads or tails of the place but the drugs in his system were wreaking havoc on his mind. That and he had limited motion. When he stopped though, he saw a man with a doctor's mask loom over him. Looking around as much as he could he noticed how much like a surgery room it looked like. 

Panic began to set in. 

This was it. The most painful of the experiments were about to be done on him and then he'd die. 

Stiles struggled, tried to scream and fight, and anything that would help him. But in the end...he was only human. 

* * *

 

"How are you feeling today?"

"I am happy to comply." Stiles answered with faux cheerfulness immediately.

Whitehall looked over to the shrink with a skeptic look. "Sounds a bit...sarcastic to me."

"Yes, well, it was one of his most dominant traits before." the shrink replied.

"So did the experiment fail?" Whitehall demanded. 

The shrink shook his head, "No, not at all. Granted, the sarcasm lingers, but he is..." he smiled breathlessly as he looked back at Stiles, "He is perfect."

Whitehall clicked a few things on his tablet as he brought Stiles's file up. He 'hmm'd' while nodding.

"Took to training like a duck to water. Mastered weapons with ease as well. And he is just...so...graceful! He is like the River Tam we've always wanted."

"River Tam escaped." Whitehall reminded him while he eyed Stiles's perfectly still form. 

"True...but we are miles away from his home. His family has no resources. Not any they haven't used up already, anyway. And it doesn't matter anyway. He is a killing machine. One that doesn't think about morals or ethics. He is your personal gun to fire when ready. He in lithe and nimble, and can reach anywhere."

Whitehall smirked. "S.H.I.E.L.D.'s been too annoying lately. Let's see just how _perfect_ he really is."

The shrink turned to face Stiles, smiling excitedly at him. "Are you ready? It's show time!"

"I am happy to comply." Stiles replied without missing a heartbeat.

* * *

 

Along with another, someone called Agent 33, Stiles became close to Whitehall. Became his personal PA as well as one of his best assassins. Sometimes they worked missions together, sometimes Whitehall sent Stiles on missions all his own regarding items of the supernatural kind. 

He first really encountered S.H.I.E.L.D. when they tried to obtain the painting that held the writing on the back. When the fight between H.Y.D.R.A and S.H.I.E.L.D ended, it was Stiles who had saved Agent 33 from being killed by Agent May. He had been too late however, to stop May from fusing the Photostatic Veil to Agent 33's face. 

The scar bothered her greatly, but Stiles suspected it had more to do with no longer being able to see her own face. Part of Stiles wanted to reach out and comfort her, but he held back. His first and foremost priority was to keep Whitehall safe and satisfied. 

They chased more things like the painting that Stiles didn't question. It was odd to him. He felt like he should question a lot of things. 

Raina was a problem for them, as was Skye. 

Stiles expected a kill order on them, but Whitehall never gave it. Or at least not to him. 

Ward became a problem, Whitehall didn't trust him. He stirred something inside of Stiles that scared Whitehall. Soon after they met with Ward, Stiles had asked 'why' on an order. He was punished for it and never allowed to be in the same room as Ward again. 

Stiles was there when Agent 33 gave the order for the four H.Y.D.R.A Quinjets to fire and take the SHIELD Bus out of the air. He was nearly certain he'd never see Ward again. 

But he did. 

In Puerto Rico where H.Y.D.R.A and S.H.I.E.L.D had a big showdown. 

Whitehall wanted Skye and her father about killing her mother. Ward tried to talk to Agent 33, but when that failed he tried to talk to Stiles. Before Ward could say something though, Whitehall gave Stiles his orders. Then all hell broke loose. 

Stiles did his best to protect Whitehall. Killing as many S.H.I.E.L.D agents as he could without caring who they were. 

The battle raged and in that time he was separated from Whitehall and thrown into a mass of chaos. When he found Whitehall once more, he was dead. Agent 33 had some sort of breakdown. She must have felt what Stiles was feeling now that the man who gave him orders and purpose was dead. The gunfire was still hot and Stiles barely managed to get away from where Agent 33 was in a losing battle with S.H.I.E.L.D agents. 

Stiles circled back to where he last saw Ward. The man was still there, but injured. Stiles rushed to his side, his face confused and hurt and unsure as he knelt down to Ward's side. Helping Ward stand, Stiles spoke in a quiet voice, "Whitehall's dead..."

Ward's breathing was shaky, but he nodded as he held on to Stiles's hand, "It's okay...Listen. It doesn't have to end here. Help me and I'll help you."

It could have been a lie, but with Whitehall dead Stiles no longer had a sense of direction. No idea what his objectives were and that scared the hell out of him. What was he without Whitehall?

Stiles grabbed onto Ward a bit tighter and hurried as fast as he could with Ward's weight slowing them down, and getting them to safety. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Even with all training he's received in H.Y.D.R.A.'s mitts, Ward was still bigger than him. With his injuries being what they were, after making it out of the warehouse in one piece without being spotted by some sort of miracle, Ward wasn't going to make it far after. Stiles hid Ward behind some fallen trees and dared to go back inside for some sort of supplies. He remembered when he arrived with Whitehall that he had a pack full of supplies that should get them by. It took all of his training to sneak passed the hoards of S.H.I.E.L.D agents moving in to clean up the mess. 

For a moment he forgot how to breathe. 

He hasn't had a panic attack since the beginning days with H.Y.D.R.A. Didn't think he'd have them again but with the uncertainty of his life now, he had to use all his will power not to break down. 

He endured months of torture before Whitehall took him under his care. He was trained and taught to be Whitehall's perfect weapon. To do all that Whitehall commanded. To protect Whitehall at all cost. 

He failed and now he had no direction. He had no purpose. 

There was no way he could return to his life from before. They wouldn't recognize him. They wouldn't understand him. They would see him as broken beyond repair but he _wasn't_ broken! He was taken apart and put back together into something _stronger_! That's what H.Y.D.R.A did! That's what they _promised_!

But H.Y.D.R.A was falling all around him. Stiles could still hear bullets and screams and even pieces of the building itself falling. 

When he looked down at his hands and saw blood, he was slightly confused. Then he remembered it wasn't his blood. It was Ward's. Ward needed help. Ward needed _him_. He hadn't become useless. He wasn't obsolete. His objectives just changed. 

Squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath, he stood up and went back in search of supplies. Back near the office Whitehall had explained things to him and Agent 33 when they first arrived, Stiles found his backpack along with another. It wasn't nearly enough for what he calculated he needed, but it would have to do.

Foregoing the stairs, Stiles shimmied down the gutter pipe outside one of the windows. The building was full of agents, dominantly S.H.I.E.L.D while H.Y.D.R.A either retreated or stood their ground and were being killed off. 

Luckily Ward was still alive when Stiles reached him. Bonus points for being conscious. Stiles asked him to hold a flashlight while he made quick work of wrapping the biggest wounds with bandages. It was sloppy work, but Stiles needed to stop the bleeding and add some pressure to get them away long enough without Ward bleeding to death.

Once the bleeding was somewhat controlled, Stiles helped Ward to his feet again and they made it towards one of the locations where Whitehall had emergency Jeeps stationed for quick get-aways. 

Stiles had to leave Ward leaning against a tree as he got rid of some of the agents watching over the Jeep they reached. It wasn't all that graceful or easy, but eventually Stiles got Ward into the Jeep and they were off. 

Something sparked in Stiles as he drove. Flashbacks of his beloved blue Jeep surface and he swerved. 

"You okay?" Ward asked him as he cast Stiles a worried glance. 

Stiles looked over and even in the darkness he could see that Ward wasn't doing so good. He was sweating, his breathing was labored, and he was in clear pain, even if he tried to hide it. 

"Yeah. Just avoiding a pothole. We should be in town in less that twenty minutes. We'll get you patched up." Stiles promised as he took a calming breath to ease his nerves. 

"It's going to be okay." Ward spoke in a soothing voice. 

Stiles found himself relaxing to it...trying to believe Ward's words. The silence that followed, only to be occasionally interrupted by a loudly broken branch they run over, had Stiles's heart pounding with worry though. He was still afraid of what life had in stored for him without Whitehall. Would Ward need him once he was patched up and healing? Would he ditch Stiles the moment presented itself? Stiles gripped the steering wheel tighter and only nodded in response. 

* * *

 

Stiles parked the Jeep in a darkened area before he scouted the first motel he came across. He didn't have any money on him and knew better than being seen at the moment. Once he found a room that was empty and had other empty rooms on either side of it, he went back and fetched Ward. 

He knew that he would soon have to ditch the Jeep and get something else that would grab too much attention. So after letting Ward take a deep breath, the two slowly made their way to the room Stiles picked out. At the door, it took Stiles less that ten seconds to pick the lock and motion Ward inside. Once Ward was on the bed Stiles set down one of the other bags he brought with him and opened up his backpack. Using his pocket knife Stiles ripped away Ward's clothes, being more careful when it came to the roughly bandaged wounds. 

Stiles went to the bathroom then came back into the room to look for something to hold water. In the end he had to rummage through his bags. He found an empty canteen that he filled from the bathroom sink. Spreading out his supplies he moved as fast as he could to clean each wound, remove the bullets, sew the wound shut, and wrap it back up with clean bandages. 

All the while Ward watched him silently. It was a bit unnerving to be honest, but H.Y.D.R.A trained him to ignore distractions and focus on his task. Though after a while he turned to Ward and asked, "Would you like something to bite down on? I don't have anything at the moment for the pain."

Ward shook his head. "It's alright. You're good at it." he said as he nudged towards Stiles's working hands. 

Stiles's lips curved up ever so slightly. 

"H.Y.D.R.A would want to take credit." Stiles replied quietly.

"But they can't?" Ward inquired.

Stiles took a moment to consider it. Flashes of his past life and the McCalls. How Melissa McCall taught him the basics when he and Scott seemed to always get hurt one way or another at practice. When the supernatural crap began, Stiles thought it would come in handy to learn more. 

"They... _perfected_ it. But I...I was taught the basics... _before_..."

"Before they stole your life." Ward said evenly. 

Stiles froze at the words and part of him wanted to deny it. To claim that he was happy. _Happy to comply_. But another part of him wanted to agree and be _angry_! He flared his nostrils and breathed through his nose. He didn't reply as continued and Ward didn't say anything else. 

Once he was done, he helped clean Ward up as best as he could, then continued with the rest of the room. Stiles was about to grab the covers from the second bed in the room before he grimaced at the stain. It was the first motel he saw and not the best. Though it would help them keep a low profile, it made him lose his appetite. Reaching into his pack he found a folded up emergency blanket and placed it next to Ward.

"I'm going out for a while. I'll be back in about an hour. Try to rest...if you get cold, I'd recommend using this." Stiles pointed to the folded square near Ward's hand. 

"Where are you going?" Ward asked. Though it may have seem casual to anyone, Stiles was always good at reading people. There was a slight panic in his eye that made some unnamed emotion in Stiles flare. 

Stiles let out a shaky breath before steadying his expression, "Errands. I'll be _back_." He promised then raised one finger. "One hour."

He and Ward shared a too long glance before Ward nodded and Stiles left the room. When the door closed behind him, he slouched on it and let out another shaky breath. He looked around as if he would find the answer to all his problems. All he saw was darkness. 

With a sigh he stood up and began to make his way to the Jeep. Each step he took, he steeled his resolve. He focused on what he had to do in a short run. 

_Take care of Ward._

Once Ward is better...then he'll deal with what comes next. 

* * *

 

With the shroud of darkness...and in a rural area where there weren't many traffic laws to abide, Stiles drove quite some distance in a short amount of time. He gave the Jeep once last sweep and found a mini tool box, a radio, and some protein bars. Finding a good enough location to abandon it, Stiles walked five blocks before he came across a decent looking pick-up truck that had half a gas tank full. Hot wiring it was simple enough and he was making his way towards the closest pharmacy he could find. 

Picking the lock took a bit more than the motel room, but still just under the minute mark. His Spanish wasn't the best, let alone his Spanish medical terms, but he tried to guess as best as he could. Luckily his time in the hospital because of his own mother and because of Mrs. McCall, he knew how the pills he wanted looked like. Once he had the meds, he stopped by a local convenience store and picked up basics. Water bottles, Chex Mix, Beef Jerky, sun glasses, baseball caps, a pair of sweat pants and tourist shirts. They really weren't his style but they'd do for now. 

Something in the back of him mind wanted him to be guilty for stealing all of it, but right now he was in _Survival Mode_. 

It was as he was driving back to Ward that the voice in the back of his mind got louder. It was a voice he hadn't heard in nearly over a year. A voice he was sure he'd never hear again. He parked the truck on the side of the road and rummaged through the glove box and cup holders. He found a few coins and hoped it was enough. 

He had no idea why he was doing this. It was stupid. It was so beyond stupid he should just get back to the truck and get to Ward. _That_ was his objective! With Whitehall dead, his object was to care for Ward. Care, mend, protect him. He isn't doing that by staring at the damn phone booth! 

Time passed and before he knew it the coins were slotting into the machine and he was pressing buttons. 

He should hang up. 

He really, really should.

 " _Hello_?" a groggy voice answered. 

A lump formed in his throat as Stiles heard his father's actual voice for the first time in a very long time. Not a dream or a hallucination or his moral conscious after committing a crime. But his for real, actual voice. 

 _"Hello? Who's there?"_ The Sheriff demanded. 

Stiles slammed the phone down on the receiver before he _actually_ did something stupid. Letting out a shaky breath he rested against the booth and swallowed back the emotions that were running through him. His face felt itchy and when he raised his hands to see why, he saw that he was crying. It's been months since he last cried.

He wiped away his tears as he headed back to the truck. 

Driving down the road he told his objectives to himself out loud, "Care for Ward. Protect Ward."

* * *

 

"You were gone nearly half an hour longer than you said." Ward said as Stiles entered the room. 

Ward was sitting up against the headboard and the old television was on. It was spotty and flickered with static every so often. Since Ward managed to turn it on himself without a remote in sight, Stiles was optimistic about the wounds. Still, he frowned at the older man. "You shouldn't strain yourself."

"I was bored." Ward shrugged and something else was left unsaid. 

Stiles sat on the other bed and watched Ward for a moment before asking, "Did you think I wouldn't return?"

Ward took a long time before answering. "It was...a possibility."

Stiles nodded. "It was."

"Why didn't you take it then?"

Stiles licked his lips. He then met and kept Ward's searching gaze. In the times when S.H.I.E.L.D agents turned out to be H.Y.D.R.A and Ward himself was pretty high up in ranks, Stiles almost laughed at Ward for looking for honesty. But he held back since honesty was all he had at the moment. 

"Whitehall's dead. The past year has been dedicated to taking me apart and putting me back together as his perfect toy. I...without him...I'm a weapon without an owner. I...I don't have a purpose."Stiles replied as he finally looked down at his hands.

"And what am I, then?" Ward asked. His voice was that soothing calm it had been on the ride over. 

Stiles thought it over and over in his mind. He was conflicted with his loyalty to Whitehall and his need to have someone to dedicate his life to. Ward must have sensed his distress as he cleared his throat.

"It's okay...you don't have to answer that. I _am_ curious as to what errands you've been up to though." Ward replied, voice a bit more casual, bordering playful. 

It confused Stiles a bit before shrugging off that odd feeling he had. 

"I needed to get rid of the Jeep. I got us a pick-up truck. The supplies I have now will get us through until we find a better place. I know you're still in pain, but the sooner we get farther from that warehouse-"

"The better." Ward nodded in agreement.

"So rest. I'll keep watch. We'll leave just before sunrise." Stiles said as he stood and reached into one of the bags. He grabbed the bottle and passed it over to Ward with a smirk. "I got you some of the good stuff. It'll help with the pain and help you sleep."

While Ward opened the bottle and drank some water with the pills, Stiles pulled up the chair from the corner of the room. He stationed it in the best angle by the window while he reached for his gun. He only had his glock with him and two more clips. 

"What's your name?" Ward asked after he shimmied down and made himself as comfortable as he could on the bed.

Stiles turned to grin at him. "Now's not the time to be curious. Sleep, Ward."

"Grant. My name is Grant Ward."

"Good for you." Stiles replied playfully while turning his attention back to the window.

"You're really not going to tell me? I told you mine." Ward said and Stiles could hear the drowsiness in his voice. He should be out soon.

"I pulled your ass out of the fire. I earned your name." Stiles replied without looking at the older man.

Ward yawned, "Guess we'll have to stick together long enough for me to learn your name."

When the only noise was the hum of the television and the sound of the night out side of their room, Stiles looked over. Ward's eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell evenly as he slept. Despite himself, Stiles smiled at Ward's words. 

That panicky feeling of dread and uncertainty left him...if only for now. 


End file.
